banoffee pie and those mighty AB's

When the All Blacks lost to France in the World Cup quarter final way back in 2007, I lived in Hataitai and sat somewhere on the Rugby-enthusiasm spectrum between indifferent and disinterested. It might of been that I had suffered fatigue in the preceding couple of years (which saw me amongst other things become an honorary Bay of Plenty steamers supporter, and get very excited about the Lion's tour. I could go on, but I'll spare you. I digress).

I just really wasn't fussed back in '07 when the World Cup came around. I kind of cared, but really I just didn't. I was smugly coupled and thus not creaming myself over Richie, and decided on that slightly-hungover Sunday morning that brunch was in order. I missioned down to four square at half time and returned to make beautiful poached eggs, complete with bacon and spinach, all served on grainy toast made with love and crisp crisp apple juice.

No one cared for my poached eggs. In fact, such was the shock emanating from that three-legged floral couch that two said-eggs remained cold and uneaten. The toast went soggy. The bacon, flacid. It ruined my Sunday. AND I DIDN'T EVEN CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT THE STUPID RUGBY.

But four more years ladies and gentlemen, and sentiments, oh how they change. Sentiments and residences and attitudes and relationship status, and you know what? I am truly grateful for them all. I admit I began this World Cup campaign with an appreciation for Kahui's eyes and Sonny Bill's arms and Richie's sweet rugged face, but I also had an ulterior motive in that I stood to win the office sweepstake if Wales came through. I also have this deep-seated ethos remaining from my waitressing days which just makes me as a hostess want to show people a good time. I wanted all the travelling foreign visitors to have fun and enjoy New Zealand, and thus for 7 weeks I embraced the code. 

A few barbecues were had, as was a trip to Auckland to get amongst the French. There were many beers and games at home, and I even made it to a quarter final. We had a scarily high intake of sugar at a friend's house for that tense semi-final in the form of dessert overload (yummy mummy's cheesecakes, a locally made caramel chocolate chip ice cream, snickers pods, baby marshmallows, compulsory rainbow sprinkles, and hot fudge sauce) which followed after an excellent summer salad of asparagus, feta, mint, broccoli and almonds. I also witnessed the sacking of lots of white Steinlager cans.

So for the All Blacks and France final here in 2011, despite my fears of a repeat - cooking for people and them not eating it because we lose and me being REALLY GUTTED all over again, but too insecure to maturely say something and rather just brood all day and then probably cry, I still gathered people around.

And cooked for them. And when I say I cooked, I assembled anyone in town and not wanting to cram into a bar (read: pay for drinks (read: still spent all my money on shots and beers for games of fingers in town after we drank the house dry and went to town)) and made my friend Andrew tend the barbecue. A friend painted her nails in supportively bogan nearly-black, whilst others met and chatted and chopped bread and made salads anxiously. Amongst the tension, a feast was created.


I even obtained a projector and beamed the game up onto Aro walls, in the same vein as the Royal Wedding (and whilst the anticipation was close to what it was at wedding of the century, the night-ending celebrations weren't quite as spectacular. But again, I digress.)

Pre match dinner? Delicious salads, hungover coleslaw, tasty bread, amazing roasted portobello mushrooms with thyme and parmesan, marinated steak, roasted asparagus, pork and fennel sausages, the best guacamole, a thousand corn chips, venison sausages and banoffee freaking pie.

Banoffee pie was my key contribution, and for the reasons outlined above, I was nervous.

Pre-game, we were not ready for dessert, and so maybe half time pie we thought? Things were far too tense. I worried: would people eat it? Would it be a repeat of both disaster-game and disaster-meal of 2007? Would it remain in the fridge only to be slowly devoured by a grieving flat upon an unspeakable loss? Would I mow the whole thing myself in an attempt to nurse my hangover? No.

We won. We screamed, we shouted, we sang and danced. By one freaking point, we freaking won. And upon victory the stereo was cranked and the pie was cut unbeautifully into slabs with a fish slice, and unceremoniously shimmied onto plates, and oh boy did it get eaten. Trashy? Maybe a little. A made up name a cross between banana and toffee? Also yes. ONE OF THE MOST DELICIOUS THINGS EVER?

YES YES YES.

5 simple ingredients. A tiny bit of foresight. Banoffee pie for the win.

Banoffee Pie
I learned to make this off my cousin's former wife when I was about 12 and it's been in my repertoire ever since. Although I've tasted numerous variations over the years - instant coffee in the cream, pastry for the base, gingernuts instead of wine biscuits, tinned caramel, chocolate on top - I remain true to this very simple formula, which I think can only be improved with sliced strawberries on top when they're in season. Do it!

1 packet wine biscuits
about 75g butter
2 tins sweetened condensed milk
About 3 or 4 bananas, depending on their size
330mL cream (just one of those small bottles will do)
Vanilla and icing sugar, for cream whipping

1. Place both cans of condensed milk - unopened - into a pot and cover with water. Bring to the boil uncovered, and boil for about 2 hours. Continue topping up the water when necessary to ensure the tins are always covered. Turn the tins occasionally using tongs. 2 hours is the minimum, you could comfortably do a bit more.

2. Pulverize your biscuits (this will be made far simpler with a food processor, although in my past I've had success with a plastic bag, a tea towel and a rolling pin. Get smash-happy!)

3. Melt the butter and mix into the biscuit crumbs. Press into a dish - I use a lasagne dish. Vary your size depending on how thick you want your layers, remembering that this is essentially a stock-standard cheesecake base. Leave in the fridge until your caramel is ready.

4. Carefully remove tins from water. You could leave to cool for a bit. Carefully open with a tin opener. Take a spoon and have a taste of heaven in a mouthful. Continue.

5. Spread caramel over the biscuit base with a rubber spatula. Slice your bananas and spread evenly over the caramel.

6. Whip cream with a little icing sugar and a little vanilla. Spread over the banana layer.

7. Allow to set in the fridge.

That is all. Pure and simple. Amazingly calorifically impressively easy banoffee pie. For a win, or a loss, or a celebration or anything. Works well as a dessert, or a drunken alternative to a 4am kebab, and of course as breakfast the next day it's unbeatable. For a little bit of trashy and a whole heap of delicious, I really cannot recommend this enough.

Seriously though, how good was that game?

I'm kidding - it wasn't good, it was nail-bitingly horrific!

But seriously though. How good was Stephen Donald?

Anyone know if he's single?

brunch for one

Give me a rubber spatula and I will confidently scramble you soft, foldy delicious eggs til the cows come home. Poached eggs are a slightly different story, and I am yet to truly master the art of the perfectly poached egg. I've come close, and the results are generally edible. Competent, I most certainly am but impatient? Probably just a little.

Perfect with asparagus (roasted, or course) I went with poached eggs for brunch this morning. I used the magic trick of a tablespoon of white vinegar, but I was careless in my placement of each egg into the simmering water. I've heard that lowering them gently into the water on a giant spoon keeps the yolk nicely encased in the white in those crucial initial phases of poaching, but my sloppy uncoordinated use of a ramekin meant mine swiftly looked like this (an undesirable outcome, believe me):

With some temperature adjustment and some water skimming, they came together alright. I always swore by the slotted spoon for perfect poached egg removal; from spoon to teatowel to plate to avoid soggy toast. But I have a friend who recently alerted me to the superior merits of using the humble potato masher. I have to say these were probably not the best poached eggs to try on, given their slightly disconnected nature, but the potato masher trick was a winner.

Definitely not my finest work, but delicious nonetheless. Served with roasted asparagus, and buttered vogels toast, and cracked pepper and salt, I also gave them a tiny wee drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, a garnish trick I stole from a recent trip to Martinborough. The only thing missing was coffee. And a nice glass of juice. And the paper. And sunshine streaming in. And maybe a brunch companion. Ah well. I gave it a good go. Happy Saturday everyone!

anarchy in the meringue mix!

Making meringues is fun. Witnessing globulous egg whites sprinkled with white white sugar triumphantly blossom into shiny amazing clouds is an extremely satisfying process. It's only made better with plum syrup, dark chocolate, pistachio nuts and having a face-smearing meringue mixture fight with your flatmate.

If you make them too big, and use too many egg whites, and they spectacularly slump into deflated sticky cowpats, never fear! Simply break them up and stir through some softly whipped cream and some chopped plums. Perfectly delicious dessert? Yes!

Plum, pistachio and dark chocolate meringues

4 egg whites - at room temperature and as fresh as possible for the best results I'm told
1 cup caster sugar
about 3/4 - 1 cup of plum syrup from a can of black doris plums
about 100g roughly chopped dark chocolate
a handful of chopped pistachios

Beat egg whites until stiff, and then sprinkle over the sugar bit by bit, continuning the beating, then add the plum syrup and beat until glossy peaks form. According to cuisine you should have soft glossy peaks rather than sharp dry ones. Genntly fold through the pistachios and chocolate.

If you have any mixture left after inevitable fight and excessive consumption, continue...

Place spoonfuls of the mixture onto a baking tray lined with paper. Bake at 120*C for 1-1 and a half hours, and then turn the oven off and leave them in for another hour at least.

Serve with creeeeeeeeeeeeam and more plums if you're so inclined. Enjoy!

you don't win friends with salad

This week's excuse for over-indulgence in jager-bombs and agavero shots is the Rugby World Cup. In true kiwi style though, I'm attempting to limit my shenanigans to the weekend, and have been filling up my working week with healthy salads and plenty of exercise. A throw together of what was in the pantry provided a rather tasty outcome recently, and 4 perfectly packaged lunch containers were prepared for the flatties' lunches.

Chickpea, carrot and wild rocket salad

Like I said, this was thrown together from what was in the cupboard and the fridge. Surprisingly good result!

Drain 1 tin of chickpeas and rinse well to remove the brine. Place in a bowl with 2 grated carrots, a big bunch of wild rocket, and some of those crunchy sprout combo raw beans I keep going on about. Sprinkle over some sesame seeds and then dress and mix. 

Dressing is made by squeezing into a jug some fresh lemon juice with some chilli infused olive oil, a splash of balsamic and a splash of red wine vinegar and whisking well after a sprinkle of cracked pepper.

It's healthy, vegan, filling and deceptively tasty for something so easy. The wild rocket gives that suckerpunch of pepper that lift the chickpeas from bland to grand, and it really did make for a nice change from the usual baby spinach providing greenery in my salads. The sesame seeds give a nice little crunch, as do the beans. The dressing rounds it off nicely with the requisite tang. For a 5 minute throw together after dinner to have lunch sorted the next day, not bad at all. 

sweet dreams are made of frosting

In both the kitchen and in life, there are things that belong together. Often better paired than separately alone. To name but a few:

Bacon and avocado.

Pigeons and poison.

Tears and Bright Eyes.

Gin and tonic.

Beetroot and feta.

Toast and tea.

Felicity and Ben.

Banana and chocolate.

Banana and bread.

Banana and caramel.

Caramel and anything!

Baby banana loaves with caramel cream cheese frosting

(the baby loaves adapted from Nigella's banana bread, and the frosting is from Lucy at the Kitchen Maid)

175g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
125g butter, melted
150g sugar
2 large eggs
2 very ripe bananas (about 300g weighed without skin) mashed - I used mine from the freezer
1 tsp vanilla
100g dark chocolate, cut into chunks

Preheat the oven to 180*C. Put the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a medium bowl and combine well.

In a large bowl, mix the melted butter and sugar and beat until blended. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then the mashed bananas. Add the chocolate and the vanilla. Add the flour mixture, a third at a time, stirring well after each addition, using a wooden spoon.
Grease your mini loaf pans and pour in the batter so they are just over half full. Bake in the middle of the oven for about 30 minutes, but keep an eye on them! They're ready when they're risen and golden. Leave in the tin to cool for a bit before turning onto a wire rack. Ice when cool.

The frosting recipe is available by clicking here.

I'm warning you - this stuff is probably one of the most incredible things I have ever made. I love caramel, and I love cream cheese icing, and I pretty much can never make this again because chances are I'll eat it all, with or without a baked good underneath. Then I'll just fill with guilt about all the calories, which will inevitably lead to multiple gym classes, which will lead to being filled with scorn when faced with couples who work out together in the front row of the gym class who then leave the class holding hands. And then I'll just get wrinkles from scowling, and then I'll have a whinge about being at the age where I can get both wrinkles and zits, and when inspecting said-zits I'll find my skin's gone dry, including a scaly chin, and I'll have to cry again because it's not even from pash rash!

So there.

Oh, and I chopped and dry toasted some walnuts and sprinkled them on top too. They're quite sweet, but the bitter chocolate cuts through the sweetness just nicely. These things are the goods. Give them a go!

pearly greens

If you're using baking to cheer yourself up and to search for inspiration, it's probably best you infiltrate your eating with things like this pearl barley and asparagus salad.

Continuing my foray into ancient and healthy grains, just like with quinoa I had never used pearl barley before. It also cooks just like brown rice though, and it puffs up nicely to give a rich nutty flavour. 

I chopped up some asparagus, and thinly sliced some broccoli and lay them in a baking tray and drizzled over olive oil, a few chilli flakes, some cracked pepper and some coarsely grated lemon zest. I grilled that at a high heat for about 15 minutes only, making sure they retained their crunch. 

In a bowl, add the cooked pearl barley, the greens from the tray, some baby rocket, and some sun sprout crunchy bean combo (a mix of adzuki, lentil sprouts and pea sprouts). 

I made a dressing by mixing up some chilli infused olive oil, some red wine vinegar, a splash of balsamic, some fresh lemon juice and a bit of zest, and some cracked pepper. Whisk well with a fork and dress the salad. 

It's the big three - healthy! delicious! easy! And vegan incidentally, although some feta cheese would not be out of place. I had just this for dinner and leftovers for lunch, but it would work well alongside a nice fresh piece of fish for a complete meal, especially with that citrus coming through. 

And after a hunk of that red velvet cake and with summer around the corner, it's important to remember everything in moderation...

velvet red and velvet blue

Blue Velvet is apparently blue powerade mixed with white cask wine (also known as goon). Enjoyed any time, but particularly I'm told, if hungover and needing to get back on it. Hydrates and gets you steamed all at once. Excellent.

Black Velvet is of course a 1980's hit tune by Allanah Myles. It featured on the MTV top 100 power ballads (I am loving MTV classic at the moment by the way) which my darling flatmate and I sang terribly along to (well I did anyway) on pancake Sunday. Although said-flatmate admitted she's not so much a fan of the song any more since an overplaying problem a few years back...

And Red Velvet?

Magic in cake form. Magic and rainbows and unicorns and happiness. In a cake.

This cake. This cake. This cake is incredible. It's made with a paste of red food colouring, vanilla extract and cocoa. It's fudgey, and chocolatey, and dense but moist and red. I was absolutely gobsmackingly enticed when I read about this cake on Joy the Baker ages ago, and when trawling through some recipes recently I decided the time had come again for me to get it going in my kitchen.

I first learned about red velvet back when I still thought cupcakes were ok and used to sniff around cupcakes take the cake. And even though I have voiced my thoughts about Valentine's Day here before, a few years ago while my guard was briefly down, I made these as cupcakes. This week though I just could not stop thinking about creating start-to-finish a beautiful cake. No reason. Just because I could.

Also, when I was severely heartbroken (a distant memory now) and I mean severely (fragile, pre-blog, come home from work to my shit flat with nothing to do but cry etc etc blah blah crap) I really didn't know how I would get up each day. But I did. Somehow. I got up, I knew things could be worse, and I would walk to work along Oriental Bay each day with Florence and the Machine's Dog Days are Over on my ipod. Every morning. I would tell myself that things were going to be ok. And they were! This cake reminds me of that song. Like an empowering song or a wonderful friend, this cake politely helps you up, puts you in a smoking hot dress, gives you a shot of gin, and tells you straight that things are fine and life is good. How can it not be?

Anyway, ew heartbreak. To the cake!

I made the cake on Monday night but it wasn't ready for icing then because it was still warm. And despite following Joy's precise instructions regarding whipping those egg whites for the creamy glossy frosting, mine was not a success. I'd use cream cheese icing next time I reckon.

And even though I really just made this cake as a pick-me-up cathartic re-embrace-my-blog-roots-and-get-me-in-the-kitchen challenge, on Tuesday when our lovely former flatties came for dinner I attempted an icing rescue mission and served it up for pudding. With no classy or beautiful or appropriately sized cake plates to report, I used some brown paper and dished it up off the bench. 

And because my massacred icing was salvaged only with about a tonne of icing sugar and some heavy beating, it was all in all quite sweet. The toasted coconut was great though, and if you for some absurd reason choose not to don your red velvet beauty in hundreds and thousands, I would heartily suggest coconut all over. 

The boy flatmates both former and current asked what the occasion was for such a celebratory looking baked good on a Tuesday night. When I couldn't exactly articulate one they very helpfully (not) threw ideas at me, before they started singing TLC's No Scrubs while I cut into it and plated it up, declaring it some tragic ode to singledom or something. And while I was attempting a photo shoot, there was even the dimming of lights and the lighting of candles. 

I had no retort except to exasperatingly declare "this is what my life has become!" 

Fortunately, it was delicious.

Recipe available here on Joy the Baker. Hundreds and Thousands optional. 

spring rain and routine and salad

I've come to the conclusion that boys are stupid and girls are crazy and sometimes if your weekend has been punctuated with conversations that can only be described as surreal (some involving spooning, some involving nervous laughter, some involving cider, some involving salad) then you may find on a grey, raining Monday that you crave the structure and routine of a standard working day. You look forward to the gym, and you're comforted by a day in the office, with a semblance of control over who you talk to, and a reasonably reliable set of events to navigate.

After a delightfully mundane day, once you get into the kitchen, you're reminded of a few things. The catalyst that started the blog. Your desire to create tasty and simple dinners without pressure or fanfare. Your love of layer cakes. Your ability to do exciting things with chicken thighs. That warm satisfaction that you have created a delicious healthy meal. And although you always favour flavour above presentation, you enjoy plating up dinner and eating it on the couch in a comfy warm jersey and with the usually hatred-inducing trash TV on in the background. It's familiar, and feels like a strange time warp thinking back to a year ago, and two years ago, and many of the months in between. 

It ended up being sweet relief to get out of work last night though, and the aforementioned gym session was met with the enthusiasm of someone who'd had pancakes and pinot noir for dinner the night before. And whilst sometimes the gym can reinspire and reinvigorate, last night enthusiasm was not forthcoming on the treadmill. All I could think about was cake and dinner and i could not get past the overwhelming craving to get in the kitchen. 

And to accompany my mundane Monday mood and the persisting spring rain, some tasty fresh spring flavours were had for dinner. Thanks to Claire and her Mum for the big bag of lemons, currently brightening up my fruit bowl. 

Qunioa salad with roasted tomatoes and lemon chicken

I'd never cooked the ancient grain Quinoa before (and apparently it's pronounced keen-wah, but I'm not judging you) - but I'd heard you just cook it how you would rice. So I did! I cooked probably about a cup of the dry stuff, available in the bulk bins at the supermarket. It's light texture resembles couscous once cooked, but it gives a healthy-tasting nuttiness without the weight of brown rice (which can sometimes be a little heavy). It's perfect as a salad base, I swiftly found out. 

I took 3 ripe tomatoes and cut them in half and drizzled over some garlic and rosemary infused olive oil, some rock salt and some balsamic vinegar. I cooked them at 180*C for ages. 

For the chicken, I used a skinless boneless breast and cut it into cubes. In a bowl I added some fresh thyme, some lemon zest, some lemon juice, salt and olive oil. I then panfried it to ensure it got really crispy. I added some more lemon juice and reduced the heat for a bit until it was cooked through. 

I wasn't going to, because I realise my addiction is bordering on silly, and the fact I do it all the time is stifling my creativity, however, I roasted a head of broccoli with olive oil and chilli flakes. I feel guilty because this is so repetitive, but I couldn't resist. Delicious! 

In a bowl, add the cooked quinoa, some baby spinach (rocket would work well too), the chicken, some feta cheese, the tomatoes chopped up a bit and some sunflower seeds. We served it with a dollop of garlic hummus on top for good measure.  The lemon-tomato combo made this an especially flavoursome and satisfying dinner. Post gym perfection!

I then made just about the prettiest cake I've ever made, but more about that shortly x

pancakes for dinner

Sometimes the circumstances dictate that Sunday night dinner can only be pancakes. Maybe you have just been dumped. You might just be feeling a little bit sorry for yourself. Maybe you broke your wrist and spent all morning in accident and emergency unable to drink liquids. Maybe the love of your life has just taken a job that means they're going to be away for long periods at a time and they just left. Maybe you just feel like wallowing. You might have one of those hangovers where you crave sweetness and sweetness only. Maybe you thought you were devoid of emotion but you started crying again. You might have spent the afternoon listening to too much Bright Eyes. Maybe you ran into your ex and it had an unexpected effect on your heart. You might miss your family, or your close friends, wherever they may be. Or maybe you just deserve a treat.

Nothing says treat like pancakes for dinner. Especially if they're served with black doris plums, citrus mascarpone and maple flavoured syrup.

It's not often I indulge, but pancakes for dinner were dinner this evening. I hadn't done so since the famous post-Patrick Swayze-dying Ghost and Dirty Dancing pancakes-for-dinner marathon my friend Rach and I got amongst in Mt Vic back in '09. I used to swear by buttermilk as the key to a good pancake. That changed this evening with the introduction to my pancake repetoire of Nigella's ricotta hotcakes. These, dear readers, are the best pancakes I have ever had.

Ricotta Hotcakes
(Nigella Lawson's, and I got them from her website. She says the recipe makes 25 so I halved it, and it made 2 smallish dud ones and 4 fluffy light amazingly perfect ones. And yes, I ate them all.)

250g ricotta
125g trim milk
2 large eggs, separated
100g plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
butter or oil, for frying

Put ricotta, milk and egg yolks in a bowl and mix well.

Add flour, baking powder and salt, and whisk to form a smooth batter. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until the become foamy (it doesn't take long) and then fold into the mixture.

Heat your frypan and add a glug of oil or a knob of butter. Drop spoonfuls of batter and cook for about a minute until golden, before flipping.

For the citrus mascarpone put some mascarpone in a bowl, add the juice of about half an orange and some zest, then sprinkle over some icing sugar. Mix well.

Serve with a few pitted black doris plums from a tin. Drizzle over some maple syrup and cheer the hell up.

Whatever the circumstances of your Sunday, these come very highly recommended.

Treat yourself!